Greater Good
by Catharsiss-BridgetteHayden
Summary: Snape is ready to break down barriers, but is shocked to learn that those barriers are not Harry's, but his own. When he does his best to guide Harry through a difficult situation, Harry takes control. AU, SLASH, INCEST.
1. Imperative

WARNING: AU, SLASH, INCEST!

WARNING: AU, SLASH, INCEST!

WARNING: AU, SLASH, INCEST!

NOTE: Incest is just a prop, a challenge, it has nothing to do with real life issues. The real story is about wringing the most drama out of these great characters as possible. Put them in a complex situation, and watch them find their way out. This story is in response to those who wanted more of the pic fic #3 incest version, posted in Snarry Lovers 2.0, on Facebook. I promised there would be incest between Harry and Snape in Unbearable- Harry, but it's taking a while for the plot to get there, so I'm offering this to those interested. Thanks!

This story originated from a "pic fic", (unable to show on this platform. It's the scene where Snape is pulling Harry downstairs for his first lessons in Occlumency). It was only meant to be a glimpse, but this one had more to say. Image credit to Warner Bros., JK Rowling, and my_eternal_prince_severus_Snape/tumblr  
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**Just for clarity, Harry is 17 in this story.

**!THIS STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ MASTERPIECE-SEVERUS (It's not necessary to read that story to follow this one)!**

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"Yes, this is highly irregular, but this is a highly irregular situation. We've not seen this kind of magic in thousands of years. Modern laws and principles will not do for this situation. They will not keep us safe. The boy is very powerful and very dangerous."

"But Albus, there must be someone else."

"Severus, you're the only one I trust with teaching him to channel is magic through his body, and away from his anger."

"Albus, you are cruel. You know my relationship with him."

"A relationship that you pretend does not exist. What's another night of pretense?"

"He's... he's my son." It was barely a whisper, and filled with revulsion for having to admit it. Albus had promised he'd never have to speak of it.

"There are cultures where it is quite appropriate for a parent to provide valuable, personal instruction to their offspring, Severus. This is no different."

"You expect me to touch him. I will not."

"He never has to know, Severus. Don't you want to arm him with as much protection as possible? For one night, forget who he is and teach him what he needs to know. It will save his life."

"If I do this, I'll have to resign. It's hard enough teaching around him. This would make it unbearable. Is there no limit to what you would ask me to do, to prove my loyalty?"

"Is there no limit to what you would do to keep hims safe?"

Snape lowered his head. They both knew there was no limit to what he would do.

"I'm afraid I'm giving you no choice in this matter. You are the most qualified and unless you help, Harry will continue to be a danger to himself and others. We must leave the secular world, and its morals, behind in this matter. I'm ordering you to take him to the dungeons and to be a proper teacher to him. Neither of you will be allowed to leave until the act is accomplished."

With that, Albus turned and left Snape standing alone in his empty classroom. Forever alone, and on the wrong side of everything.


	2. Ventilate

It was the hardest thing Snape ever had to do. He was trained to end another human life. He'd conditioned his body to ingest and survive the world's deadliest poisons. He'd taught himself to look Voldemort in his red eyes and to lie without flinching. He had increased his tolerance for pain by withstanding self-inflicted bouts of the Cruciatus, just to remain prepared, should his meetings with Voldemort take a nasty turn. And now Dumbledore demands that he cross this boundary with his son. He could not do it.

Unfortunately, he possessed a mind and body that equated 'can't' with weakness and imminent death. With his soul screaming 'I can't,' his body got moving. It took one look at Dumbledore's decision and got busy implementing it. It drug Snape's soul, harnessed to it, against his will. He had to remind himself that he wasn't the Headmaster's puppet. He had his own reasons for risking his sanity to fight these kinds of battles. The more shit he cleaned up, the more he got his hands dirty, the more innocent lives were spared. If he didn't have that proof for himself, he couldn't have lasted this long. His sanity was easy enough to risk. But Harry's, he couldn't rationalize that away.

He couldn't sacrifice his son to this chaotic war. Harry was at risk, and put everyone else at risk, because of a magic that came from Snape to begin with. So Snape had a responsibility. Seventeen years ago, Dumbledore made a promise to find a good home for Harry, and never to tell anyone about his real parentage. For that, Snape swore his loyalty. But it was never about pleasing the old man. It was about keeping his son safe. And that meant never telling Harry the truth. The fact that that Dumbling idiot placed Harry with one of the worst families imaginable, made Snape see that he was going to have to be extra vigilant in protecting Harry and not giving the boy any clues at the same time. In fact, he had to do a pretty convincing selling job of hating Harry, to throw everyone off the real scent.

After seventeen years of demonstrating nothing but animosity for Harry, how was he to pull this off? His soul was begging and pleading with him not to do it, and still calculations went on in his head as to the best execution with the most minimal damage. There was going to be damage. He would just have to remind Harry that warriors do not regret the wounds that allowed them to triumph in the end. He had scars too. He had horrors in his past too, but his body would not shut down. His will simply kept going, as if fueled by some eternal contract that demanded unending work until the day he could no longer pick himself up.

But he never wanted this darkness for Harry. He knew Harry's magic was powerful, and that served as a magnet, trapping Harry to a war where his magic was indispensable. While he could not prevent Harry's participation in this war, he refused to be the one to indoctrinate him into it's most unforgiving corners. Yes, it is foolish romanticism, to assume young ones are born without a sexuality. Like everything about them, it is there, in seedling form. The wisest thing to do is leave it alone. It is part of their person, with blueprints as to who they are. So what if, other cultures in other eras, meddled with those blue prints. He knew he had no business tampering with a bond that was already severely compromised. While Harry was not a child, he would always be Snape's child, and that was the blade that ran Snape through every time he thought about it.

"His magic will keep him strong," Dumbledore had said. In his office, doing his best to keep Snape from walking out on him.

"He's rather like you in that way, Snape. Just as you are a natural guardian over these students, he is a natural warrior. Your genetics have given him everything he needs to fight Voldemort. But that is a lot of power for a young man to withstand. Until that day comes, Harry will have to learn the system of his body, and how it processes magic. He will have to learn to empty it, for it is like the termination points of a pyramid, nature's most self-sustaining engine. It draws what it needs from the earth, twisting it tightly upward, until there is enough pressure to propel raw energy into the atmosphere. In anyone, this ensures the activation of sexual needs. But in a wizard like Harry, given so much on behalf of others, there is too much of it to find a safe way to exit his sphere of light.

"Given the proper guidance, he might be able to master it by the time he's thirty. But at seventeen, the energy being generated by his magic, is too great for him. Teach him to release it through his sexuality. This will make him less of a risk to those around him, and will make it far more difficult for Voldemort to find him. Voldemort is attracted to power, and as long as Harry is walking around with this untamed maelstrom inside of him, Voldemort will have access to it."

Just teach him to release it, Snape told himself. You don't have to violate the boy. His sexuality is tender, but, contrary to what he displays, he is intelligent and can be talked to. Make him understand what's at stake. If you have to retire, if you finally commit an act that is more shameful than all that has been asked of you, and you must exile yourself from civilization to cope with what you've done, then so be it. You know the war is going to kill you anyway and there is no happy ending for you. You've burned all those bridges. If your life has to end on such an unforgiving note, then give this boy what he needs before you go. The world may say that you've hurt him, but let him one day look back and see that you've empowered him.

The race to make Harry understand, started when Snape disrupted Slughorn's Potions class and took him from it. Hardly waiting on Slughorn to grant permission, he'd grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him through the corridors as if he were an errant child. The classroom and halls cracked with energy left in his wake. Long strides had Harry struggling to keep up and questioning what was happening. Students moved out of their path as Snape stormed his way to the dungeons.

He did not answer Harry's questions, reserving that for a very precise moment. Instead, he led Harry past the Slytherin common room and down the hall to his private set of rooms. This had to take place in a completely secure environment. There would be no portraits to gossip about it afterwords, and no safety wards to trigger that a student was in danger. He hated having Harry inside his dwelling. He shared his space with no one. It was an intimacy he granted no one, and he pulled Harry through it with a speed intended to keep Harry motion-blind to the details. He did not take Harry to his bedroom, but instead, descended to his personal laboratory, where his most significant and covert brewing for the school took place. For years, he'd used his potions to defend against Dark Arts. Now that he was teaching it properly, it seemed only fitting to give Harry this lesson in a room designed for illicit challenges.

Once there, he let Harry go, locked the door, and left him standing there with his question unanswered. He was all business, going to a cabinet and lifting a lock-charm to retrieve one of the most illegal substances in the school. Velvet Willow. He measured only enough for a tincture, and instead of offering it to Harry in a tea, stalked towards him with a needle-loaded syringe.

Harry stepped back until the door blocked his path. "What's that? Why won't you answer me?"  
Snape held the needle up. "This is an aid, Mr. Potter. Dumbledore has asked me to train you in defending your magic. In order to do that, we must start before there is ever an attack upon it to begin with. In these lessons, I am charged with breaking through barriers of your psyche, physically and emotionally. That is always painful, as barriers are erected for a reason. This will serve as a painkiller. It cannot undo any damage caused by my intrusion, but it will help you survive any trauma that you may experience. I will administer this now."

To Harry, Snape's words almost sounded like kindness. That didn't match the indifference with which he'd just been drug through the halls with. And it didn't match Snape. The inconsistency scared him all the more and he flinched when Snape grabbed his arm. Through an instant of pain, he moaned, "That's a muggle thing. Why not a potion or a spell?"

Snape looked at him as if that answer were far too complex for him to understand. "I need this in your bloodstream. It has to break the blood-bone barrier in your pituitary, and in exactly ten seconds, you will not care one way or another, but you will retain what you've learn from this lesson."

Even as Snape spoke, warmth began to spread through Harry's body. All of his muscles began to relax at once. He was still confused, but suddenly, Snape's voice and his face emerged as the most dominant and important factors facing him. He tried to hang on to critical thinking, which was melting like something left to puddle in the sun.

"What are you going to do?"

"Make this as painless, and as quick as possible. What do you know about sex?" The question, and Snape's expression held all the formality used when facing a classroom of students. The topic shocked Harry into silence.

"I have measured the dosage to allow you coherent thought and speech, Mr. Potter. Make no mistake, our topic has everything to do with your survival and this war. Dumbledore claims you are intelligent. That, combined with your popularity, must afford you some insight into carnal matters, even if your experience has been a solitary one."

"What?"

"The most inexperienced, rejected student in this school, has hormones and responds to the aggregate of biology around them. You are known for your arrogant disregard of rules, have you mavericked your way into any situations with another student that would cause either one of you to lose your virginity?"

"What?"

Snape's lips tightened. "Have… you… ever… had… sex?"

When Harry blinked stupidly, Snape rolled his eyes. He knew it. He knew it wasn't going to be simple. The boy was going to make this far more complicated than it had to be, even drugged. Young adult his ass!

"So you have a knack for chasing down dark wizards, risking your life to save others, and going up against Azkaban's dementors, but I ask you about sex and your ears are too innocent to recover from such an inappropriate question?"

"I'm just shocked, okay? Jesus, give me a minute. I can't believe this is coming from you. And those questions are personal, it's not like I want to talk about something like that with you."

"I assure you, if this were about doing things we want, I would not be standing before you. This is about survival. The Dark Lord can smell your magic the way a shark smells a drop of blood in an ocean of water. Even in a school, where magic surrounds you, you stand out to him and you attract him. While there is nothing to be done to lessen the core that spins out such volumes of energy from you, we can diminish what continually emanates from your person. If this is done regularly, you will not be such a beacon that calls his presence into this school."

"Wh-"

"If you say 'what' one more time, I will dispense with any attempt to communicate and I will end this lesson in the most expedient manner possible, and you won't like it."

Harry looked stricken. "Professor, I'm overwhelmed! This is really hard for me. Maybe if you backed up and explained yourself better. What does my sex life have to do with Voldemort?"

"Listen closely. I do not wish to repeat this lesson. It is going to be painful. It is going to make you hate me even more than you do. The headmaster himself, has ordered it. It is about sex. It is about magic, and how the two are amplified in you. Because of your circumstances, you cannot be treated like a child. You are facing adult challenges, therefore you must be armed with adult knowledge. Make no mistake. My actions will no doubt be construed as criminal, but you can decide on that after they save your life. You are having nightmares, yes?

"Yes." Harry nodded, able to keep up.

"You feel the Dark Lord inside your mind, yes?"

"Yeah," he admitted.

"He comes to you at any time, and he takes over, correct?"

"Yes, but I'm getting better at occlumency."

"It's too late for that. Your magic offers him an unlimited fountain. He's using it against you. You're making him too strong to keep out of your mind. Cut off his supply, and you stand a chance of keeping him out."

"Cut him off from my magic? How?"

"Learn to ventilate it. Create as system that dumps vats of unused magic away from your person and neutralizes it by using it for physical consumption."

"Physical consumption?"

"Sex."

Snape saw behind the glare of Harry's glasses, that he'd made his mark. It was sinking in.

Harry appeared to steady himself. "You brought me here to tell me that I need to have sex?"

"Matters are much worse than that. I brought you here to make sure that you do not leave the room without doing so."

Harry's brain pinged, like wire prongs. That tone, along with Snape's words, sent his soul reeling, while his body remained on its feet. It was the drug, he told himself. Because without it, he would've bolted for the door by now. He would've had it off its hinges and tore back up to the ground floors without giving a thought about detention. This was just too weird.

"You can't be serious." Dumbledore would never allow this. Would he?

"One thing you should know, if you don't by now, Dumbledore is an ambitious wizard and will do anything to gain the upper hand in power. Anything. He controls the lives of children to better influence them as adults. While I do not subscribe to his every philosophy, in this matter, he is correct. Now tell me straight, have you ever engaged in full intercourse?"

"Um, kinda. Almost. If you must know, there was -"

Snape held up his hand. "The answer I'm looking for, has only two possibilities."

"No, but that doesn't mean I'm innocent. I've done things. I'm not as far behind as you make it sound. I don't need tutoring, if that's what you want to call it. I know how to pick up girls on my own."

Finally, the first barrier broken through.

"Look at me, Mr. Potter."

Harry did. Snape stood before him, as imposing as always. But looking through drug-glossed eyes, Snape's robes looked extra black. His skin, rind pale, took on the appeal of being caught in moonlight. And Harry found his eyes drifting up to comb through the shiny hairs at the part in the middle of Snape's head. Suddenly, his fingers wanted to touch, to see if that blue-black sheen was as soft as it looked. It's the drug, he insisted. He could feel it coursing through his veins, making his nerve endings sing.

Sure, he'd fantasized about getting under Snape's iron skirt. But that was just a fantasy, a tactic for staying awake in class. No matter which pretty girl it started out with, the body beneath him always turned into Snape. Harry had been horrified, until he realized how much his body seemed to like it. Girls were convenient, and he was sure he could've gotten anyone he wanted. But Snape was the real challenge. Snape was the one with all the buttons, as forbidding as any girl's lace-ups back in the day. It wasn't Harry's fault if the Professor was more mysterious to him than anyone else in the school. He hadn't meant to let his thoughts get sexual, but there it was. Now to be dragged and locked in a room with Snape telling him he wasn't going to leave without having sex? Had he heard that right?

Snape's tone remained as rigid as his posture. "Contrary to what most believe, no doubt yourself included, I am no sadist. I am no monster. I have little reason to imitate such behavior when the world is rampant with the real things. I am attempting to make this as painless as possible, however, some carnage to your most sacred beliefs about allowing another person to touch you, particularly myself, will be rent apart."

"Are you… are you going to, to rape me?"

Just when he thought Snape could not look more unimpressed, the Professor amassed himself in an aura of supreme annoyance and stabbed him with his blackest glare.

"This exercise will do no good if you are not compliant. It requires your sexual energy. Neither I, nor anyone else, can take that from you, even were I to bend you over that table, Mr. Potter. While your body can be violated, what's required here is an emptying of your urges, for they hold stores of your magic."

"You want us to, to do it?" Harry thought he saw disgust at his choice of words, briefly wash across Snape's face before he regained his composure.

"Keep in mind, I could've given you enough of the drug to have you in the most undignified position already. I'm allowing you to face this as a choice, and I will thank you not to use that vile word in my presence again."

"Ra-"

"Yes, that is the one. Do not repeat it. As we proceed, you will stand there. I will touch you. At no point are you allowed to touch me. I will be quite devoid of emotion and I suggest, for your sake, you do the same. It will make our task easier. I will grasp you, I will monitor your magic as I bring you to orgasm, no there is no other way to say it, I'm just as disgusted as you are, can you allow this or am I going to have to tell the Headmaster that you are still such a child that you cannot grasp the seriousness of the situation and set your qualms aside?"

"I..."

Harry felt his body tighten. Not with anxiety, not with fear, though that was definitely edging around the corners, trying to go unnoticed. His body wound down on itself at the mention of what Snape would be doing to him. He couldn't help it. The tension was about eagerness, not fear. Those promises were like phone sex. He'd never had phone sex, but he knew enough about the muggle take on it, to be pretty sure it had to be close to that. The girl tells you what she's gonna do and you were free to enjoy it. If Snape kept talking, he wasn't going to need to touch Harry at all to produce the same results.

Snape's stature, his bulk, and oh so many layers, took on new significance in Harry's eyes. Suddenly, his girth was not that of a man decades older than himself, but an invitation to snake his arms around that ample waistline and feel the smooth warmth emanating through his fabric.

Harry shook, not because what Snape was telling him was too much, but because his body was already there while his mind was having trouble catching up. This was his teacher. And not just any teacher, the scariest teacher in the school. This was the wizard he'd had his way with over and over again in the privacy of his mind. And now he was so swollen between his legs because his body knew this moment. It was no stranger to this moment, have indulged in unspeakable, imaginary acts, long ago. But the brain doesn't know the difference between reality and fiction, does it? Under his robe, in his pants, he felt the unmistakable leakage that would've caused him to die from embarrassment if anyone could known. And Snape hadn't even touched him yet.

"Now that I've given you more time and preparation than my initial calculations deemed wise, are you ready to get this over with."

"What exactly..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Snape had him turned and facing the wall. "Don't look at me. We shall have to see each other afterwords, and this moment should have as little bearing on our public meeting as possible."

Harry's breath caught. So this was it? Anal, right? He'd always been intimidated by anal stuff, but Snape had to know what he was doing. Harry braced himself, not knowing what to do with his hands or with his uncomfortable cock. He wanted to relieve the pressure, but felt himself go shy at the thought of Snape seeing it. In front of him, the stone wall was his only view and it taunted him as he waited to see how Snape would proceed. He still wasn't okay with this, but it seemed ridiculous to run from something he'd secretly wanted. Just because he wasn't ready, didn't mean he wasn't curious. He was horrified, but trembling to have Snape follow through on his promise, at the same time. He could freak out about it later. Right now, he had to see what those large, potion-making hands, were going to do.

When he felt them high on his shoulders, instead of his ass, his breath caught. They practically ironed his robe with their heat. He paid attention to how they traced the frame of his back, thumbs spreading over the ridges of muscle and bone, and curving to the contours beneath. A wall of body heat moved up behind him, and that's when he knew how close Snape stood. Those wide hands and long fingers opened like a fan at his waist. There was a ticklish threat, but it turned his gut into jelly and he had to place his own hands against the wall to keep his balance. He felt how both of Snape's hands encompassed the expanse of his narrow waist and wished he'd just use them to dig in and squeeze.

Those hands made him realize what he wanted. In their slow journey down the length of Harry, he thought of where they needed to be. If Snape really wanted to make this successful, those hands should've pulled Harry into, what he could only assume was the larger man's thick and hidden bulge. Harry had gotten good at spying it when Snape's angry stride had his coat opening wider and wider on the inseam of his thighs. It was a sight worth pondering, and it lay just an inch or two away from his ass. He could probably brush up against it if he tried, but Snape's hands had a way of insisting he stay near the wall.

He tried, but his nerves had him shifting under the slide of those thick fingers. They went around his rear, down his hips, and rounded in front of his thighs. It was just enough light friction, that it made Harry want it earnestly. He decided to play it safe and keep his mouth shut, praising a muggle god when those hands dared to work their way between his thighs, at the base of his ass. Mouth open, he fell against the wall and let his anguish escape in moans he couldn't suppress. His pelvis inched down, wanting more pressure and his legs quaked around Snape's attention.

When Snape lifted Harry's robe and reached around to unfasten his belt and pants, Harry no longer cared about the sharp bite of rock cutting into his head, or the smell of grit and mildew wafting up his sinuses. He felt Snape unzip his fly and his cock didn't wait to be taken out. It pushed through his underwear. When Snape avoided it, even after it grazed his hand, Harry had to grip what he could of the wall, to keep himself from grabbing the offending hand and putting it where he wanted it.

Snape paused. He took a step back. It was the catch in Harry's throat that stopped him. If the boy was going to cry, he wouldn't be able to do this. As it was, he'd softened his touch just enough to pacify Harry's anxiety. He had to somehow let Harry know that it meant nothing, and maintain Harry's arousal at the same time. Fake it till he's done, a voice whispered. He obviously responds to tenderness and you've already warned him that you will not succumb to emotion. Be persuasive with your touch, till he is water in your hands, and you will have shown him how to empty the very pools of desire, instead of giving them to Voldemort.

Caressing Harry from behind was meant to be a segue into greater depths. He knew the boy would concentrate better, were he not confronted with the very symbol of rules, authority, right and wrong. Now Harry's closed eyes, open mouth, and whimpers, inspired a deeper guilt in him. Those were the sounds of a lover and he had no right to hear them. It was bad enough that he held the expertise to trick Harry's body into giving up those sounds, but he was actually using them against Harry. His technique was one of subtle abeyance, and he'd learned it from Voldemort's bed. This was how you put an undecided victim at ease. This was how you nudged the vote. Not by force, but by putting magic in the palms of your hands and giving the other all the love and attention denied him, through your touch. Yes, Voldemort could use love. Not as an emotional crutch, but as a weapon. As he touched Harry, he promised that he would not be that cruel. He'd told the boy exactly how far he would take this. If Harry chose to think for one moment that there was amorous intentions involved, then his intelligence would fail him.

Subduing Harry's protests and making him think he wanted more, could handle more, worked. Snape's deliberate meandering away from the most obvious regions of Harry's arousal, was part of the design to make Harry willing. His magic had to shoot out of him without any resistance or blockages. He was really too trusting. If he was this easy to manipulate after seven years of the worst treatment Snape could publicly get away with, what chance did he have with Voldemort?

It broke Snape's heart. He saw too much of himself in Harry's vulnerability. This was, after all, his secret son. Of course he would've passed on his weaknesses as well as his magic to Harry. Harry was one of the most popular students in the school, for better or worse, and still it had not cured him of needing another's touch to the point of betraying his own self-worth. His adolescent yearning soaked up love in any form that it came, even false love. Oh, the boy pretended to have preferences, but once the lights were down and hands started to roam, he yielded. He opened. He welcomed.

He kept his hands on the surface of Harry's clothes, only primly opening the front and letting the boy's privates free themselves, because he knew anatomy and pressure. Harry would've been too uncomfortable for this to work, otherwise. After causing Harry's muscles to trust him, stimulating the cortex of his nervous system, the space between rectum and testicles, caused him to melt the rest of the way. He slumped, arms shaking to hold his weight against the wall, as the trunk of his body bore down on Snape's fist and rode out several grinding waves that tore from his throat and echoed off the stones. The spot that Snape kneaded, corresponded to the pleasure centers of the brain. He was careful to press and rub with the back of his hand rather than cup outright. When Harry's legs were shaking, he gently retreated from the crevice of his pants and raked his fingers back up his thighs. This time, letting them climb the slope of Harry's rear until he shuddered with the first stages of a mounting climax.

He move his fingers to the pressure points of Harry's spine and watched as different parts of Harry's body twitched in response to the tips at key points along his vertebrae. His back had started to perspire. Snape could feel the slip of skin and oil beneath fabric as he pushed his thumbs into the ridges below Harry's ribs. The boy cried out, collapsing against the wall and shouting unformed words out into the air.

Harry's body clung to the stone, worming away from a touch that pulled his every secret desire from him. Snape was pressing buttons, not just on his body, but in his brain. Too much one second, not enough the next. The build up behind his testicles was almost as strong as the weight engorging his distended cock. To find some relief, Harry slid it against the rough texture of stone. The granulated surface was biting, but it cooled the head of Harry's burden at the same time. He continued to squirm underneath Snape's hands, hunching and bruising, trapped by whatever the hell Snape was doing to him. His pelvis knew this wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, and it fucked the wall because it didn't know where else to put Harry's need to thrust. Not even painful scrapes stopped him from taking friction where he could get it. When he reached down to take hold of himself, Snape grabbed his wrist and snatched his hand away.

He held Harry's arm behind his back, forcing Harry to balance on one shoulder, as the other arm had already given out. Saliva leaked from Harry's mouth as he rode the voiceless screams that tore from his gut. Energy ripped through his muscles and Snape held him down as the first eruption crested within him. His magic spiraled on itself and slammed through sexual centers Harry had no idea he possessed until they vibrated his being from chest to solar plexus, to stomach and knees. Had Snape not held him, he would've fallen. The soles of his feet lifted and locked to ride out the contractions.

The chain reaction that had him spurting, over and over, unable to stop, elicited violent cries from him. He'd had no idea that pleasure could be just as demanding as pain, until it doubled him over and gripped him in a vice that had him fighting to be released. Peripheral awareness knew he must've been a mess, knew this wasn't normal, and knew that once he did snap out of it, the real challenge would be overcoming the shame. All of this paled to the realization that he was now firmly backed onto the mound beneath Snape's robe and it filled a need. Snape's weight and body heat crushed him, and he welcomed it. He wept to feel one of those heavy, massive hands engulfing his cock. Here was the answer, the responsive heat and velvet acceptance, in the grip of that strength.

Harry thrust, still riding the storm inside him. It should've been disgusting to know that his fluid touched his Professor's hands. Not just touched, but must've spilled between them, must've splattered the floor and he still couldn't stop. His body's rhythm hiccuped on contact with the pads of Snape's fingers and those padded digits pinched, prodded, and milked even more from him. His muscles gave out. His body convulsed even as Snape laid him on the floor. He melted into darkness.

Snape looked at the mess in front of him. Once he was certain that Harry wasn't going to flop around and hurt himself, he backed away and turned for the sink. He kept a small wet lab adjacent to his bedroom, and there he scrubbed his hands. Cleaning spells would come later. Right now, he needed to feel as if scalding water could wash his guilt away.

He hadn't meant to touch Harry's penis. Not unless he had no other choice. But the sound of Harry's pleasure proved too obtrusive to endure. It got under his skin. It stung his nerves. It sent blood expanding to parts of his own body that he'd rather not have to deal with. He simply thought to bring Harry's torment, and his own, to an end. It made sense to help the boy end it. He might've been left with an inappropriate, biological response, but the worst was over. He'd never seen anyone black out over multiple orgasms, but that was the kind of magic roiling inside of Harry at any given time. He just hoped that now the boy understood the level of climax he needed to achieve, alone, in order to rid himself of such charged tension. He needn't pass out every time, he'd be sure to tell Harry. Future solitary sessions were bound to be kinder to him than what transpired today.

When he returned to the room, Harry was sitting up. He fixed his glasses but continued to squint at Snape through a film of shock and dark awe. Snape said nothing. He let Harry gawk, knowing full well he would not be capable of intelligent speech for another minute.

Harry got to his feet, red-cheeked and sideburns dripping with sweat. He was too hot. Instead of opening his robe proper, he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. He ignored the silent reprimand coming from Snape's hard eyes. By dammit, he'd just passed out and he needed to get his bearings. He was on the brink of reacting to Snape's cold, judgmental distance and silence, when he saw that he hadn't bothered to tuck himself back into his pants. He hurried and did so. Snape's glare disappeared, replaced by something more reasonable.

Keeping his balance, summoning his dignity, Harry spoke from his tilted world. "That was..."

"Please do not attempt to put words to what has transpired this evening. You were not sexually active before, now you are. You may leave with new knowledge of what you have to do to achieve routine purgings of your energetic field. If you keep balance of your magic in this way, your occlumency practice will do the rest to keep Voldemort from using your magic to tunnel his way into your mind."

Harry looked devastated. "No." He shook his head. "You brought me here for that!"

Snape's eyebrows begged to differ.

"I mean, as fucking amazing as that was, I masturbate all the time. Are you telling me I have to achieve that, with nothing but my hands?"

"Watch your language, Mr. Potter. Disrespect will not be tolerated."

Harry's disbelief animated itself in open-mouthed, exaggerated laughter. "Disrespect? You just had me off. I was dripping from your hands, for Christ's sake. Don't talk to me about disrespect. And stop calling me 'Mr. Potter.' We are definitely on a first name basis now."

If he thought the few minutes prior to his collapse, had won him the privilege of talking down to Snape, he knew he was wrong when the Professor crossed the room in less than a second and had him by his shirt collar.  
"I'm well aware that you were raised by muggles and at times resort to their expletives and deities, but you will not forget that I am your teacher and your superior in this arrangement."

"I'm never going to be able to repeat what just happened by myself. I don't even know what you did."

"You know enough to seek that quality of fulfillment. That's all it takes. I suggest you find a stable partner that you can trust, and use one another to rely upon. We're done here."

He let Harry go, but Harry clung to his arm. "No. I didn't mean it, okay? Not like it sounds. I just… What the hell, Snape? Whatever that was, it was very one-sided. You did all of that to me, and now I just have to walk out of here? What about you? Aren't you going to at least let me touch you?"

"Release me."

"No, this isn't fair."

"This is not about mutual pleasure, Mr. Potter. This is about taking your magical signal down a few degrees in order to keep yourself and your classmates alive. What has transpired between us is nothing more than a biological reaction. To bring emotions into it, would be to make it much worse. As long as we have our reasoning, we have our dignity."

"Screw dignity. What was all that crap about 'intercourse' if you're not really gonna do it? And you just felt me up. If you don't stop calling me 'Mr. Potter' I'll replay what you did in my mind, for you to see every time we have to look at each other. I'll make you wish you'd been just a little nicer to me before treating me like that and kicking me out."

Snape pulled free. "Do not be deceived into thinking we are on familiar terms. It is imperative that I keep my distance. You are no where near ready for penetration, yet our lesson required a full-body climax in order for you to remember what it feels like to have magic released in this way. The more gratified you are, the less of a threat you are for all of us. If it came to intercourse, I was prepared. But you are young and erratic. What needed to be released, has been released."

"What if I want to touch you? What if this isn't enough?"

Snape's mouth pinched from the corners. "If that wasn't enough, then your greed for attention is truly insatiable. Need I have to point to the evidence on the wall, on the floor, and on your shoes? I don't even know what's keeping you standing right now. Learn to give up, Mr. Potter."

Harry shook his head. "The way you give up, you mean? I'm sorry, Sir, but you've crossed a boundary and we're never going back. If you think I'm just gonna behave like a good little student and pretend that wasn't the hottest thing I've ever felt, your crazier than I thought. I have no idea what the hell that did for you, but I can't be any worse for wanting the same thing from you."

"You delusional idiot. This has nothing to do with me. This was an intervention at best, a disgrace at worst, and I had to get you through it. If you are so naive that you've fallen in love with me in the span of the two minutes it took to get you to lose your mind against that wall, then that is an emotional obstacle that you will have to overcome."

"You monster. Emotional obstacle? I've wanted this all year. Before, even. How am I naive, when almost everything I've dreamt about in class, just came true beneath your hands? If I can have that, I can have anything. I can have you."

For the first time ever, Harry saw the methodical control behind Snape's eyes shift to something uncertain. Something uncomfortable and outwitted.

"Bet you didn't calculate that in your dosage."

"Mr. Potter. This lesson is over. You have no idea what it cost me to give it. And now that it's done, the kindest thing that either of us could do, would be to avoid each other from here on out. I take no -"

Stopped by Harry's kiss, Snape stumbled back from the weight thrown into him. Shorter, and athletically more agile, Harry's arms returned to Snape the minute they were torn away. He fought to maintain mouth contact, but settled for wherever Snape's turning head would allow him. He had nothing to lose. This wizard had just played his body like a harp, pulling strings Harry didn't even know he had. He wasn't going to be the only one standing with his self-esteem puddled around his feet.

Harry's ambush was unsteady, but fueled by two desires. The desire to get even, and the need to find more of where that had come from. He sucked at Snape's mouth, wrestling it into his own, as if he might find the answer there. He wasn't going to be dismissed. He wasn't going to be insulted again by being made to turn into a little boy and obey. If they both ended up in front of Dumbledore, or worse, the Ministry, he'd dare Snape to tell the truth. Since that wasn't going to happen, neither was his expulsion. He might not have been as tall or as strong as Snape, but he wasn't a wimp and he used all of his strength to prove it, perhaps using more force than necessary to keep hold.

To Snape, Harry's first pounce, was that of an over eager puppy. He could've thrown Harry off with less effort than a flick of his wand. But with both hands full, and his wand deep in its holster, he pitied Harry and let the boy see that he wasn't going to get anywhere. Perhaps it was humiliating to empty one's self in front of another, while they looked on. He knew it was. Perhaps there was no harm in giving Harry a few moments to exhaust himself in his futile efforts, as he climbed all over Snape to prove something. Snape held him off, but just barely. The connection Harry made with his body and his lips, were little grants he pretended he wasn't giving, just to convince Harry he'd put up a good fight. Harry, slick in his mouth, and hard again, against his leg, proved to be as difficult as a fly trap, to pull off of him.

He finally succeeded, bruising the boy's biceps and pushing him off with a grip so tight, Harry had to know he was through being gentle. Harry fell to the floor. "This lesson is over." He barely spoke the words before he saw Harry lift something he'd fallen on. Snape recognized his chief possession and lunged to grab it. Harry scrambled away, on his feet and holding the wand hostage before Snape could get it from him.

"I'll break it."

"And what do you think that will accomplish? My cooperation?"

"Just give me a minute. You owe me that. You brought me in here and did things to me. I want some payback and you stand there pretending nothing happened. You stand there with all your authority and you get to call the shots while you humiliate me." He sneered in disgust. "You got to see everything, and I got to see nothing." He looked at Snape's wand, thought better of it, and tossed the wand at his teacher's feet.

"There then. I guess it takes some big shot to make a student feel like shit. In one minute, you made my dreams come true and fucking destroyed me with them in the next. You can tell yourself you're being kind all you want to. I'm fucking sore and dehydrated from what you ripped out of my body. And the only thing keeping me from passing out from the shock, is hoping you'd give in an ounce and let me kiss you. You took from me, let me take from you. That's how sex works. That's how a really satisfying shag works. You saw what nobody gets to see, only someone who might love me, and for that, I deserve to see something in return. If you don't, you're just another bully wearing a teacher's authority and using it to hurt students so that you can feel good about yourself."

Harry's chest heaved as he faced down Snape's stare. Without a word, Snape extended his hand and his wand rose to meet it. He kept his eyes on Harry and stepped forward.

"Mr. Potter, what would you ask?"

The demand was implicit. Snape was giving him a chance. He blinked, realizing he'd won the lottery with his last-effort speech. He'd hit a nerve. He wasn't stupid enough to think he could ask for anything, but he knew that if he asked for what he wanted, it might lead to anything.

"A kiss," Harry said quickly. "A real kiss. Let me stand as close to you as I can get. Since you won't cross that line with me, let me as inside of you as I can be. I know how to kiss. I promise I won't make it gross and I won't ask for more."

They both knew he was lying. Snape looked at him like he was doing long division and Harry waited on the verdict.

"Come here, then. Get it over with."

Harry jumped to span the distance, only, Snape's grimace stopped him. This was his chance. But Snape's expression dared him to see it through, regardless of his consent. It's just a mask, Harry told himself. He wears it to intimidate everyone, especially me, but he's shown me how human he is. Or he's going to. Harry approached the tall, shadow of a wizard and let his hands slide up Snape's shoulders. Snape's arms were folded and Harry pulled them away from his chest.

"You have to at least hold me." He brought them around his waist. His center of gravity shifted into Snape's body heat. He leaned forward and trailed his fingers to Snape's clean-shaven jaw. He tested the texture there, the creases beside that wide, humorless mouth. He stroked, just to try to feel the pores that made Snape's flesh real in his hands. Up close, he saw nothing but perfected refinement. If this was age, then it was beautiful. This wasn't grey, wrinkled, or washed out. This was an emboldened bone structure, starlight in the skin, black oceans in the hair, a decisive mouth that withheld its treats, and challenge in the eyes.

Instead of fading with time, Snape was becoming more of what a wizard really was. If Voldemort's appearance had turned into the belly of a slug, and Dumbledore's an archetypal old man on a deck of taro cards, what did Snape's magic reveal about him and his future. As Harry looked at him, he was the most alluring man Harry knew. He filled himself with this worship of what he was seeing, and pressed it into Snape's mouth.

Snape knew that he could not keep the kiss chaste, and grudgingly opened when Harry's jaw insisted. He'd conditioned himself to drink poison, he had no doubt he could withstand something as unappealing as Harry's slippery intrusion into his mouth. There were worse things he'd had to endure and he slammed his mind shut on them as Harry's efforts grew in their demand. It cost him nothing to let Harry have this moment of gentle revenge. A band-aid on his ego, as it were, and he tried to stand still long enough to say he'd shown the boy a kind mercy after all.

But Harry's body knew what it was doing. At the first sign of swelling, Snape pushed at Harry, who used all of his weight to keep his hold.

"Please," Harry whispered, not just kissing Snape with his mouth, but using his shoulders and back to burrow a place for himself as he settled into the hot moisture there. One hand navigated to the side and back of Snape's head, while the other buried itself in rich dark hairs at the base of his neck. Harry practically mounted his thighs, so that Snape had to use a table behind him to support both their weight. Whatever Harry tasted, he liked it, and went after more in an all consuming fit that would not be denied.

When the kiss had gone on far enough, and Harry was still in his arms, Snape's mind began calculating. He knew where he had made a wrong turn, he just wasn't sure of the best way to stop it. That realization alone, told him what trouble he was in. It was easy enough to halt Harry's adolescent excuse for desire, but he could not say the same for his own. Harry's pawing had only served to remind him of one thing. Son or not, student or not, this was a valid male body making its way on top of him. Harry's strength and the friction his eager body generated, were nothing to scoff at. Where had the boy gotten this body? When had he developed a man's fervor? It hadn't been there twenty minutes ago, when he'd stood there shaking like a newborn calf.

Pulse to pulse, Harry's asking body woke Snape's arousal. Harry's shoving hips, pushed Snape into the table. Something smashed behind them. Instead of turning to see, Harry used Snape's distraction to push his knee and insert himself between his teacher's legs.

Snape pulled back. "Harry, this is quite enough."

Harry mumbled into his mouth. "No, no, no, no. Not nearly enough." To prove his point, he took the hand shoving at his chest and brought it down to his crotch. He fisted Snape's hand the best he could, to keep it there, and deliberately thrust against it.

For Snape, that was the deciding moment. This boy was no boy, in spite of his appearance. Harry knew what he wanted and Snape had made the mistake of thinking it was a trivial matter, easily ignored. He thought it was impossible to find any real attraction to his son, let alone become affected by any sexual aspects inherent in teaching Harry what he had to know about his body. It wasn't attraction, he continued to insist. But Harry's movements against him, forced him to admit that it was something. He tried to withdraw his hand but Harry clasped it tighter and used it to slide against.

That Harry could be more than a boy, startled Snape into noticing what rode in his hand, feeding its hunger with his false grip, until it was Harry's pulse he was feeling, and Harry's breath becoming quicker and more shallow against his neck. The alacrity of the organ astonished him. He was no stranger to the feel of another man's firmness. He appreciated his own, but there was something about Harry's that stunned his fascination. How could this student, his boy no less, possess the body of such a perfect man? Even he had not inherited qualities that right now tempted him to lie back and see what Harry had in him?

He was all too aware of Harry's pelvis pushing its way deeper into the folds of his robe. He freed his hand, but instead of pushing Harry away, he found himself pulling on his hem, lifting it above his panted thighs, and letting Harry take his place on top.

They were awkwardly positioned on the table, and Snape knew this was wrong, but it was going to happen. He still refused to penetrate Harry, but having met this dark wizard who lived inside of Harry, he could not say that he would deny Harry entrance into his own body. He would try, but Harry had already bested him now. Harry seemed to know he'd broken some lock, passed some test, and hoisted himself above his teacher, flinging off his shirt and freeing the part of him that knew what it wanted.

He has no experience, guilt whispered in Snape's mind. He's all show. A peacock. You will call his bluff. Stop him now, before your crime is a thousand times worse.

"Harry." Snape stopped Harry's hands from taking out his penis. "There are things you don't know about me. Terrible things."

"I don't care." He let it fall out. Snape tried not to look at it, but to keep eye contact with Harry.

He confessed. "I'm a Death Eater. I've betrayed the people who matter most to me. Would you look upon all that evil, and still want what you want?"

Sweat beaded on Harry's neck. In answer, he shoved his hips deep between Snape's legs and rode the ecstasy that had Snape sinking on his elbows and barely able to keep his back raised on the table.

"Then I guess we're both going to hell," Harry replied when he could speak. There it was. He had it, crushed against him. Whatever lay at the center of of Snape's inseam, it was just as molten hard as he was and he tore at it.

Snape grabbed his hands again. "No, not like this. You have no experience. You might have the body of a man, but you are still a youth."

"Then do me," Harry grinned. "Teach me. I'm not afraid. I want you too."

Snape shook his head. "I will not bring any more shame to our relationship, than what has already transpired here today."

"What shame? You see I'm not a child. Dumbledore practically ordained it. You want me, and I want to be inside you so badly. I know spells. I've read what to do, and you could teach me."

Snape was adamant. "I've taught you enough, you beautiful boy. I fell from grace years ago, Harry. I will not take you with me now. I lay here beneath you, because your asking defeats me. After a lifetime of mistreatment, I have the opportunity to give you this small favor. Sex can be a trivial matter, or it can be a grave one. What will you decide when you've learned the truth?"

"Forget about truth. We're two people who want the same thing. Let's do it."

"Harry, when your hormones have what they want, there is still life to live. Don't let a moment's need overshadow a lifetime of honor. You're good, too good for this. I'm not. If you lift off of me, you might save us both from a world of regret. Now that I'm here, I will give you what you want, to an extent. But I beg you to be the better wizard and turn back. Save us both by saying no to the choice you have before you."

Harry's weight shook the both of them and the table. "I'm not a saint, don't pin that shit on me. If you're going down, I'm going with you. I'd rather be cast out of Eden with you, than endure paradise without you."

"You're making it worse."

"Sshhh…" Harry tried to move Snape's hands to get to his trousers. The buttons were starting to annoy him.

"I'm trying to tell you something, and I can't. I can't bear the thought of you knowing the truth and seeing just how ugly I am. When you realized what has taken place here today, you will need someone to hate. Someone to blame. That is what I leave to you. At least you'll have that."

Try as he might, he could not get past Snape's hands, which hid the prize. "What do I have to do to get past this armor?"

Snape's answer was wordless. In that next instance, his waistcoat fell open and he lifted his hands long enough to let Harry remove his pants. When he saw Harry salivating at the shapely chisel of his calves and thighs, he covered them with his academic robe, pushed from the table, and invited Harry, via nod, to join him against the wall to the side of the table. "We shall honor the Greeks, in the hope of keeping your honor."

Harry had no idea what he meant until he was standing in front of Snape.

"This is to be a substitute for the full envelopment that you desire. I suggest you hurry. Neither one of us will last."

Harry thought he had it figured out. Snape's leg's were slightly open, but the part Harry wanted the most was still concealed beneath his robe. Hands clutching the fabric to him, ensured that Harry wasn't going to get everything he wanted today. Loving a challenge, Harry reached out to finger the underside of Snape's hand, hoping to follow it and to find a pair of heavy balls or a bull's pendulous endowment. But Snape stopped him again. He guided Harry's hand to the fullness of his thighs, stopping just below his concealed genitals.

"I want to see it," Harry begged.

Ignoring him, Snape guided his hand to where his flesh met. The muscular cushion inspired understanding at once. "Really?"

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was possible, but it wasn't something he ever thought he'd find himself doing. The technique was refined by the Greeks to preserve virginity in both male and females while allowing the fullness of sexual pleasure. As Snape braced himself, facing Harry against the wall, Harry accepted the invitation to push his way into the tight enclosure Snape's muscles provided. It was awkward, and the overwhelming desire to see himself going in, interfered with his ability to go in. A mound of cloth separated his cock from Snape's and that was almost infuriating.

"Don't look at it, look at me," Snape kept saying. Harry tried, but the enclosure was too strange. Deliciously strange, but strange.

After a moment of eye-rolling, Snape decided to help him out. "Stand still."

He took Harry's chin, lifted it, and kissed him. He then drew Harry's hands to the small of his back, reached down, and did Harry the favor of positioning him precisely where he needed to be. A few strategic clenches of his strong thighs, and Harry's body took off without him. He lifted a surprised expression to Snape. "Oh my god. I can feel it. I can feel it."

Snape retained a mask of masterful indifference instead of laughing at Harry's shock. He was still on the clock as far as he was concerned and though it might've been too late, he had to give this boy what he wanted without causing him to fall in love with him. It was too late to turn back. His life was already a living hell. If he had no strength to outrun this bit of nectar, then he could drink. He was already doomed in a way that Harry was not.

Harry learned fast. Like any young man, he was careful at first, but then he tested his limits. How far did the illusion go? How long could it convince him? Nobody was convinced that this was the real thing, but that didn't stop it from feeling good. And because this was Snape, his body, his height, his jet black hair and his naked legs, not to mention that tube of solid hardness pressing into Harry, this was more than good. It was great. It was plenty. Harry clamored to regain entrance into his mouth to let him know it. Being taller, Snape had to compromise his position to bend down, and Harry made sure he did it.

He was a reluctant kisser, and Harry sensed that was because kissing was the most intimate act of all. What one faced, was the true test, not what one avoided. He had to fight for Snape's tongue, but once he had it, he locked on and pumped himself in earnest, until he drove Snape's breath out of him and gulped it into his own body. The pleasure inspired Harry to get bold. His hand left their exile from Snape's back and traveled between their bodies, where it tried to pull away, the only piece of material keeping them from being skin to skin. Again, Snape's hand was there to stop him, though their kiss never broke. Harry changed tactics.

He pretended to give up on the prize, and maneuvered until he was thrusting up against it. It broke the kiss, but watching Snape's head fall back was worth it. Seeing his resin-dark hair fly against the wall, and against his face, was a prize in itself. He might've been shorter than Snape, smaller in stature, but he was strong and no one could blame him for putting a little magic into the thrusts that were now pushing the most delicious, involuntary sounds from Snape.

Pleased with himself, he was now torn with the very real possibility of making Snape come where he stood, which had not been as real as it was in that moment, and the very real desire to hold what Snape was hiding behind the fabric. It caught him by surprise when Snape pushed him away. Harry's grip had been such that his teacher had to use force, causing Harry to stumble back. Confusion raddled his brain, but he calmed when Snape held up his hand.

"I told you to stop! That was… that was… too much. This was supposed to be for your benefit, not mine. You're trying to make me come, and I don't want to." He hadn't thought that Harry's adolescent thrusts would be effective enough to rub him into full erection, especially with the cloth between them. But there it was.

Harry laughed at both, the use of the word 'come' on Snape's lips, as well as the idea that Snape somehow thought it was beneath him to come, when Harry had already done it in front of him.  
"You're not getting out of it that easily." He started back.

Snape kept himself covered and blocked entrance to his thighs. "Wait. Wait," he commanded. He was gasping and it finally dawned on Harry that he'd been drilling this man like a jack hammer. What if he was being inconsiderate?

"I'm sorry. I'm not really inside you, so I guess I'm doing it too hard. Slow down?"

Snape honestly looked like he didn't know what to tell Harry. His eyes were red and strands plastered to his face. "No, you're fine. I just… I haven't done this in a while. And I underestimated your strength."

If this was the point where Harry was supposed to be shy about his abilities, he failed utterly. Snape's white flag was the best compliment he could've heard. It implied that Harry had exceeded all expectations, to the point that Snape could not withstand it. Maybe that was fantasy, but it sobered Harry into acting the gentleman. He approached Snape and took his arm with deliberate gentleness.

"You'll be more comfortable over here." He motioned back to the table. "Just lay back, and give me what you want to give me."

Distrust glared back at him. It told Harry that Snape was not accustomed to being on his back, nor giving up his authority. Submission was not his strong suit. If Harry didn't think fast, they wouldn't be able to recover from this reality check.

Addled by passion, Snape was already a fortress compromised, and it didn't take much for Harry to steer him to the table and push him back.

He needs me to take control, Harry registered, as their eyes trained on one another. He needs to make sure I can handle it, before he can let go.

"Trust me," Harry kissed, not stopping until he had Snape's back on the table and his legs open beneath him. Their interrupted rhythm resumed itself as heat rekindled and Harry positioned himself into the heart of Snape's legs. This time, the robe stayed in place, but Harry grabbed what it hid before Snape could. Snapes cock slipped, silk against granite, in his hand and Harry lured it to its fullest length by rubbing the organ against its natural direction to swell. He pushed his teacher's sensitive skin back into the underbelly of his stomach and pulled it out again. The motion was slow, but aggressive and Snape's groan shook the both of them. His hands fought to wrest it back from Harry.

"Why won't you let me have it?"

Beneath him, Snape struggled for coherency. "This is obscene. We're, we're being inappropriate enough. I'm your… Just finish or you'll get nothing at all."

With that threat, Harry let go and went after his fulfillment with a vengeance. If he couldn't so much as see that log Snape was hiding, he wasn't leaving till he had it erupting, same as Snape's treatment to him. And if he couldn't use his hands, he'd fuck that pole like his life depended on it. He didn't want to come between Snape's thighs, he wanted real contact. Those muscles were good, but they only made him want what he couldn't have. He rose up, matching Snape length for length. His cock nudged Snape's hand, forcing it to shrink back.  
"You and your fucking rules," Harry said under his breath. He'd apologize later. When he realized that his obscene stabs were causing Snape's hand to recoil, he took it and forced his cock into it. Another power struggle, and Snape's hand stayed wrapped around him because Harry knew that it wanted to. It wanted what Snape wasn't allowing it, and that went for all the rest.

"You're not so tough, are you?" Harry bent to make himself heard. He fucked Snapes hand, keeping it tight against his body. "All you need is someone to make you want this, right?"

Snape didn't answer. Lips tight, his eyes promised death, and curses worst than death, as Harry sandwiched his hand between both their cocks and rode until his slender muscles were lifting Snape's legs off the table. Was this the language of passion? Or was it true resentment? Harry suspectecd a little of both and Snape couldn't speak. It seemed to take all of his focus to hold is own against Harry's younger, harder body. Harry let unspeakable threats come out of his mouth while bending to kiss Snape's pink lips until they turned red. Now that he knew what a prude Snape was, he studied the effects every dirty word he could think of, had on his new lover.

Yes, lover. This wizard wasn't going anywhere. Snape said it couldn't be done, and yet Harry was doing it. Spurred by his achievement, he sat up, gripped Snape under his thighs, and pulled. Snape was heavy and Harry liked the disbelief alarming in his eyes to realize that Harry had the strength to shift him. See? They were sexually compatible.

This time, when Harry reached for Snape's cock, and was blocked, he had an ultimatum. Thighs splayed, Harry nudged between his cheeks. Snape's teeth hinged tightly at Harry's intentions, as if they performed the barricade that his rear could not.

"You wouldn't dare," he said.

Harry pressed forward. "Give me one or the other. Please. You've brought me this far."

Something that looked vaguely like panic, had Harry analyzing the stretch of Snape's mouth, and the way his hands fought to push himself up, even though Harry had him folded like a pretzel.

It hit Harry. "Oh my god. You've never done this either. You're scared I'll hurt you."

That seemed to be the last insult Snape could take. He aimed his long-suffering impatience at Harry.

"You're not ready for this."

"You're not ready for this, you're the one getting ploughed." Harry leered.

Snape reconsidered his tactic. "Do you even know what to do?"

"I do. I know the preparation charms."

Exasperated. "Not that you could possibly know what you want, but if you truly think you want this Harry, then I'll give it to you. You'll curse the day you ever asked for it, but I can deny you no longer."

He fell back and waited.

Harry interpreted his expression as someone waiting to be disappointed. He couldn't know the true reason why Snape looked more like he was receiving a death sentence than a body that only wanted to make him feel good. Harry used caresses and kisses to win back Snape's participation and warmth. When he'd once more had his way with Snape's mouth, and the older wizard showed no signs of protest, Harry positioned himself and drove gently forward.

* * *

A/N: Still haunted by this story the day after. I really want Harry to knock it out of the park. I think that's another story entirely and involves gender-cursed Snape. But I promise this story will have a happy ending because I need it to.


	3. Cleansing

Notes: This fic brought out really difficult emotions and turned out to be more than sex after all. I guess there's a reason why I had to resolve this. It's like a sketch, where all the hard parts of a drawing get worked out before being finalized in a full painting. I just needed to figure out how to wrap my brain around this subject. Thanks for playing along. Disclaimer: JK owns everything and fandom owes her its undying love, even if she isn't comfortable writing gay content as she is non-gay content.

* * *

Poised above Snape, he stopped. He could go no further. Panting, anticipation humid in his breath against Snape's face, he looked into his eyes, searching for what was wrong. Harry was no expert, but he was sure he'd gotten the charms right. Snape's given him permission, so what was the problem?

Beneath him, his professor's pupils shone like black glass. His body tensed, and Harry reveled in being that close to the drum of his heart and the bellows of his lungs. It made him feel like he'd conquered the most fierce beast in mythology, revealing it to be regal in its predatory lore, and not creepy at all. If Snape could see himself the way Harry saw him right then, his body would let Harry in.

"You've got to loosen up."

Snape's arm came between them. "I'm trying to give you what you want. But my body knows it's wrong. We're not going to be able to force this."

Harry kissed the most distinctive spot beside Snape's mouth. It was the line that determined whether one got to see a smile or a frown. There was one on each side, subtle in most people, but exaggerated in him. He kissed them both.

"Why is it so wrong? Because of our ages? Because you're my teacher? I've seen you do amazing things. You don't let any of that stop you. Don't let it stop you now."

"Mr. Potter, you are in love with an idea about me. Not me, but an idea. Until you learn to recognize the difference, I cannot lead you further astray. Apparently, not even to give you this unfortunate request."

"But you want to, right?"

"I want to ease the cruelty that I am responsible for subjecting you to. But an act like this, between us, is perhaps even more cruel."

Harry bent and used his tongue to prevent any more of what he didn't want to hear from coming through. He'd gotten this far. He had to convince Snape that they could go all the way. There was nothing they couldn't have. How could such an imposing wizard hold such irrational, hidden fears?

"You're so amazing. What the hell happened to make you so sour? You talk like you're responsible for everything. Like the whole world is on your shoulders." His caresses, working their way beneath the fabric of Snape's robe, were meant to soothe this impossibly wounded man beneath the wizard.

"The whole world is above me as we speak. I gave up the whole world, and it found me. It demands, by its very nature, that I atone for not believing in it. If a child never learns the truth, can he accept what he has asked for, and received, as recompense for all that cannot be undone?"

"What?" Harry laughed, breaking the hushed spell that suddenly felt so serious. Sex was not supposed to be serious, it was supposed to be fun.

"I like poetry as much as the next guy, but only if it rhymes. What the hell are you talking about?"

"People are quick to make laws and rules that do not apply to their situations. I find myself in a situation for which, the rules of mankind are not sympathetic. Therefore, I leave the rules of others out of my decision. But I have to know, if faced with the biggest betrayal of your life, after you've blamed others for your unhappiness, for not being what you've needed them to be, where will you go from there? Will you forgive?"

Harry thought about it. "I might, if I knew what the hell you were talking about." He used all of his weight to grind into Snape, reminding him what they were supposed to be doing. "There's no way I'm going to be able to get my body to do what you did to it, by myself. Or even with someone else. What the hell did you do to me, anyway? What was that?"

"An alternative."

"To what?"

"To this. I was trying to avoid this. No matter how much we rationalize it, this is wrong. And if you want it, you need to be aware that you are deliberately choosing a wrong."

Harry's erection inspired him. He slid it against the fabric hiding Snape's. "The way I see it, 'wrong' is a bit like the muggle story about God and Satan. I used to get drug to church on occasion. The music was beautiful, but the messages were really about preventing people from deciding for themselves. God says, 'I'm the leader in charge.' Satan says, 'I disagree.' And he's punished for disagreeing. Whomever's in charge, is always going to make those who disagree, look wrong. Even evil, to get their way. It's what we do when we're really hurt that someone won't follow us or agree with us. I think that, more than anything, showed me how human the muggles make their God, so they can feel better about their rights and wrongs. I don't know about anyone else, but I'd want a God that was better than that. More powerful than that. And certainly more loving than that. That's just the same thing that scared people do."

He took a moment to taste Snape's bottom lip and bother it into a more swollen and pleasing sight. "So yes, if my happiness is wrong to someone, someone I'm not even hurting, who's looking at me and not minding their own business, then yes. I deliberately choose wrong and I don't give a damn what anyone thinks."

Beneath him, Snape's stomach gave up a little of its tension. Harry felt his own torso sink deeper into him. "Happy?"

"Just forgive me. There is no way to fix this. And even if there was, I don't have enough life left to make anything up to you. I can't give you what you deserve. But my body is nothing. I've given it to those less deserving. I can step outside of the moment to protect myself. But I can't protect you. And if this body is all that you're asking for, then maybe when you've learned the truth, you'll realize how little I gave you, instead of making it one of the biggest issues of your life. It is an enormous error, to those who fear errors. But to me, it is just another difficult decision. It is a mask of evil, behind which, cowers a trembling mouse trying to choose between one greater pain and a lesser one. Please remember that when you judge me. When you try to figure out why I've done what I've done."

"Why do you have to be so serious all the time? We're practically having sex and you're scaring me right now. I want to see more of that skill you showed me against the wall. How'd you learn that?"

"I will not take pleasure in what I'm doing to you. Take what you must, but don't ask me to participate. I'm making myself available to you. That is all."

Harry sighed. "You wounded man. Who did this to you?"

"Your father."

If any words existed, that could've destroyed Harry's arousal, these came pretty close. As he looked at Snape, he realized it wasn't so much the revelation as it was the tone. "Are you serious?"

Snape hadn't meant to let those words leak out of him. He shook his head, but he knew that every muscle, every pore, every nerve in his body screamed yes to Harry. In wanting to be honest, in being so close to his emotions, with Harry on top of him, he'd finally betrayed himself. This was the intimacy he'd dreaded. Even if they hadn't quite had sex, this closeness was far more intimate than an inappropriate grope could ever be. Harry's warmth and acceptance had soothed him right into a place where all of his guilt wanted to cleanse itself, instead of going one more minute burdened with the weight of his grimy past. Harry's affection was like a virgin pool of sparkling white water and it hypnotized him into thinking he had a right to purge his feelings in it. Things slipped out. This is why he hadn't wanted to talk to Harry like a normal human being. Ever. Too much wanted to get out. Too many secrets. Too many confessions.

Harry sat up. "You can't get past my father? Is that why we're not having sex?"

Seeing that there was no turning back, Snape took the liberty of pushing Harry gently off of him. "I can't. I want to say it's nothing and give you this, but I can't."

"But you want it too. Right? I felt it. You could enjoy this, couldn't you?"

"It doesn't matter. Your father reaches beyond the grave to make sure this is not going to happen."

"Don't blame this on my dad. There's only two people here, and I'm not the one making up problems. What is the deal with you and my dad? Did my mother mean that much to you?"

Snape freed his legs from beneath Harry and brought himself to an upright position. Smoothing his robe down, he felt instant relief. He realized that's what the problem was all along. Allowing himself to be wrangled into a position of submission, especially with Harry, was like submitting to James, only far worse. There were too many associations. Harry was too similar to his father. Not only that, Snape had made of point of only submitting to others, like Voldemort, if he'd had no other choice. He could not be at peace while flat on his back beneath another person. However, he'd stumbled onto the answer, and his relief, too late.

"Look," Harry pointed out, "I know my dad wouldn't approve. But that was before, not now. Dead people can see things that living people misunderstand. Now that he probably knows how I feel about you, I'm sure all is forgiven, whatever happened between you. He sees that you've protected me. He knows that you're a good guy now. Besides, you were really young when you guys hated each other. If I want you, it's got to be okay with him and my mum both."  
"Harry, you will tell yourself anything. The fact is, you and I are related."

Behind his glasses, Harry's blink was like a visual stutter. "Related. How?"

"Your father."

"My father? That's hard to believe, the way he picked on you. Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Why tell me now?"

"You have to know, before you make this decision."

"That would make you the only family I have, besides the Dursleys. What were you, cousins or something?"

"It's difficult to say."

"Can't be any worse than being drugged, shoved against a wall, and forced to come out of your mind, not just in front of your teacher, but by your teacher. I think you can say it."

"I would never have put you through that, if you weren't already in this situation because of me."

"What?"

"It's my fault, and I've done everything in my power to make up for it. But you're still in danger, and I don't know how to protect you. You survived Voldemort because of an imbalance of magic. You have more than any one wizard should have."

Beside him, Snape's emotional shields came down. His shoulders slumped and his hair fell forward as he spoke to Harry without his ever present defenses. He could've been another friend, like Ron or Hermione, the way his words spilled forth. Some wall was crumbling. Some barrier breached and there was too much damage to try to save it.

"What? My mother saved me. Dumbledore said-."

"Yes, your mother's love did save you. It summoned your magic to the forefront to defend you. But you get your magic from me."

"You? Are you fucking telling me that you're my real father?"

"James and Lily are your biological parents. I am your magical parent."

"What the hell does that mean?" Harry leaned away, tucking himself back inside his pants and glaring pure betrayal at Snape.

"It means… " He couldn't go into it. He couldn't talk about James to Harry. He couldn't talk about that missing time in his life. "It means that I lost my child under circumstances that allowed me to see its magic. You know that your father and I didn't get along. To simplify matters, we'll say that we were rivals. There came a point when he thought that he was protecting himself against me. It involved a spell. Without realizing what he was doing, he unraveled a spell that I created, and used the magic inside, to… create you. Not on purpose, but Lily was affected. The night you survived Voldemort, I found her. And I found you, and I recognized my hereditary magic all around you. I know it, because it is a very deliberate magic that my mother spent her life crafting. She lost her life to it."

Harry was so silent beside him, Snape had to look to tally the damage his words were causing. Harry's focus was somewhere between the floor and his glasses. Relationship calculations waged war behind his furrowed brow. Battles were fought and lost in the span of time that he wordlessly processed what was being told to him.

After several moments, Harry revealed what his comprehension held. His tone was three-parts awe, one-part depression. "So we're related by magic? I didn't know that was possible. That explains why you hate my dad so much."

"I hope it explains more than that. This is why you cannot take your disparaging desire any further than we already have. Too many laws against nature, against magic, have already been broken and nothing but sorrow has come from it. You need only refer to your status as an orphan to point to that. And I can never forgive myself for not saving you from that fate. Voldemort's claws were too deep in me to risk bringing you anywhere near my real existence. You were better off never knowing. You may not have been happy with your muggle family, but you were far safer than I could've provided."

Harry looked at him. "What are you talking about? You didn't do anything wrong. Don't you see? This is why I will never be able to get this from another person. Our magic is compatible. We are sexually compatible. We should be, if you could get past this whole thing with my dad. Whatever you did to my body against that wall, you did it with your magic. You have to be the one to give this to me, or there's no way I can keep Voldemort out of my head. Yes, I hate that you never told me this. That you've treated me like crap all this time. But I love that you protect me. I love that you never gave up on me, even when you saw my dad raising me. You're not my real father, I mean, you didn't get my mom pregnant. So, it's not like real incest."

"Harry, the child I lost, my child, was created by your father."

"You and my dad? He cheated on my mum?"

"He stole magic from me without knowing what it was. It was an unborn child. When he did, I lost you."

"He created your child, then he stole it?"

"Harry, I'm attempting to condense quite possibly the worst time in my life. I've spent years avoiding the memories, so don't expect precision details as I try to tell you what happened. Your father and his friends cursed me. With female genitalia. It was supposed to be the joke that ended all jokes, and to humiliate me further… Let's just say, I ended up pregnant with James Potter's child. I won't sugar coat this. I tried to get rid of it, like any fully male young man would do. My body kept me in the female curse because it had another life to support and the only way to return to normal, was to do what I did. I used an abortion spell. It was supposed to be gradual, over several weeks. Well, in the process of doing that, I also cursed your father for doing what he did to me. Him and his friends. To be honest, he was dying and he when he found my jar of magic, he thought he'd found the curse upon him. He thought he could survive if he destroyed it. For good measure, he bound your mother to it, to ensure his life. He knew that I would do nothing to harm Lily. That way, if I couldn't harm her, then I couldn't harm him."

"You're making him out to be a right bastard." Harry couldn't begin to process the implication that his father might've raped anyone, especially Snape. But neither could he erase the image of what he'd seen his dad do to Snape as a teenager. Rendering him helpless and undressing him while everyone look on. That certainly wasn't cool, yet his father had done it.

"He was. Be honest with yourself, you've seen my memories. People like that don't change just because they get married and have kids."

"So it worked? Your curse didn't kill him. He didn't die until years later."

"He died when I couldn't protect your mother any longer. When he connected her to the spell, my abortion became a miscarriage. My magic, rejected by my own body, settled with its father. It came through the only womb available to it. Lily's. That's not to say that they could've had their own children. You were theirs, but you were still mine. You were still a creation between me and him. There are no records, no words, in human reference, that can describe the process that allowed you to have three parents. But you do. I will not allow you to commit an act of uninformed incest and I ask your forgiveness for those transgressions that have already taken place. I do not have inappropriate feelings for you, I simply have no way out of the pit I've dug for myself. But you're free to leave, now that you have the truth."

There. He'd given up everything. He should've been free to nurse his bitterness. But leave it to Harry to stay, when he should've gone.

Beside him, Harry's voice contained a surprising sulk. "Oh my god… In one day, I make out with the teacher I've always wanted, and it's incredible. I get you to open up to me, treat me like a human. I learn that you're my father. Technically my first-father as well as my birth-father. I learn that I still have family. Sirius wasn't the only one. Yeah, that freaks me out, but you're my family. And you still don't want me."

The embers of Snape's ire smoldered. He grabbed Harry's arm, gripping tightly. "Don't you dare use this to feel even more sorry for yourself. You should be thanking me for abandoning you. My father practically killed my mother under my nose. I kill when I see no other way. I spy. I work both ends of the spectrum. I've spared you the hereditary of murderers. Orphans with a lot less than you had, make their way into society just fine, better in some cases, than those cushioned with the luxury of unending affection. Those learn the hard way that the world does not roll out carpets for them. You yourself have learned to do what you must. If you spend one second attempting to punish me with your judgement, I shall turn your manipulations back on you. Be angry, you have a right to be, but don't pollute my presence with ungratefulness for your life because you're living proof that you've conquered every miserable infliction that you've ever suffered. You've successfully thwarted every challenge the Dursely's, or myself, could ever be held to blame for your unhappiness, and that is what makes the life within you one worthy of having."

His grip became a fist. Harry's eyes widened. "The life within you is good, even when it's bad around you. What you are, is good and powerful, and deserves life, whether your blood relations or your magical relations all fall short of that goodness or not. It's yours. Live it! It's too late for me. Don't waste your time with tears or remorse. We don't come to owe our lives to anyone. We come to live it. You have no business tying yourself to my past or my mistakes, or to James's, just as I had no business trying to save my parents. Realize what you have, no matter what I can't give you. Take your place in this world and stop harping about the family you've lost. I can tell you, families are overrated. That blood-bond connection can fail you worse than any."

Harry licked his dry lips. He made no effort to pull away. "Is that why you were ready to let me shag you? You want to throw away the idea of family, but it still means something to you. You want to get off, scott-free, and would've shut me up any way possible. Only you're not that evil. Guilty maybe, but not evil."

Snape stood from the table, snatched Harry up close. "This was never about a fucking shag. This is about your magic. You imbecile, you must learn to separate the two."

Harry rasped, "They can't be separated."

"I've sworn my life to sacrifice after sacrifice. What do you think I'm doing it for? I could not be a proper father to you. I could never have been a proper father to anyone. I did you a favor by not taking you in, and I've tried to make it up to you, to Lily, even to your bloody father, by keeping you alive ever since. I make Voldemort's problems go away. I make Dumbledore's enemies disappear. If my own son has a problem that will not go away, why should I stay my hand?

"I'm not proud of it, but I have little to be proud of. Your magic demands that I set aside petty qualms that neither of us have the luxury of obeying. Your magic is such a hair trigger, you are safer when you are sated. I imagine your little dates with your fist were convenient for years, but now that you are older, everything is picking up momentum and power, your hormones included. My only task was to show you what a thorough purging of your energies feel like. And I did it. Your greedy little arrogance begged for more and in a moment of weakness, I pitied you and tried to give it. If you attempt to hold that against me, my former demonstrations of mild disinterest in you, will seem like declarations of love compared to the complete lack of tolerance I will show you from here on out."

Harry grabbed the hand lifting him almost off the ground. Breathing hard, he choked out, "I'll take you any way I can get you."

This stunned Snape. It wasn't at all the route he thought Harry's panicked eyes were taking.

Harry continued. "You're a very powerful wizard. I get that. I get that you don't have time to be nice and to make yourself fit in with the world around you. You're not supposed to, and I love that. I love learning that that's in me too."

Snape's grip eased, not with relief, but with distrust of what his ears were hearing.

Harry massaged his arm when Snape let go of it. "You hate the ties of family, because that's where so much pain comes from. But I love family, because that's where so much love comes from. I'm happy to learn that I have two fathers. All this secrecy sucks, but it's kind of amazing at the same time. It's given me so much magic that I survived Voldemort. Now I can put a reason to everything I'm feeling. My magic has to be taken care of. Who better to show me, than you?"

This was not at all the line of reasoning Snape expected of Harry. He took a step back, ready to take out his wand and scan Harry for auric flares that would reveal disturbances in his psyche. That's what trauma did, and he'd just dumped a lot of it on Harry's lap. As difficult as it was, it felt less of a betrayal to make sure Harry's misguided advances were met with the truth instead of some sort of pity coupling. Harry deserved better than that.

"You, and so many people say it's unnatural. But nature does this sort of thing all the time. We're just as much 'nature' as rabbits or mountains or water. 'Nature' doesn't give a shit. It's people who are scared of nature. Scare of being punished by other people."

Now that he wasn't being manhandled, Harry was gaining confidence. "Snape, here me out. When I was fourteen, and I was standing in that graveyard facing Voldemort, with all those adults watching and not doing anything to help me, I wondered why my magic put me in that position. Why did I have so much magic, or whatever it was, that puts me, a kid, face to face with this wizard? And why were these people letting Voldemort do that to me? I drug Cedric's dead body away from that experience, and nothing taught me more than that, that I'm not meant to live by other people's rules. Adults give me a wide berth because they don't know what to do with me. They always have. I'm lucky the Dursley's didn't drown me or smother me as a baby, as terrified as they were of me. I'm not going to regret offending some moral sensibilities because I'm not bloody going to live by them. I can't. I'm not meant to live in a way that would make muggles perfectly comfortable. My magic won't allow it. And now that I know I get my magic from you, I'm honored that you're my father."

The word, on Harry's mouth send a cold rod through Snape's chest. He had no right to be addressed as such by Harry and he didn't hide his offense.

Harry stopped his protest. "I know, it's too late for some bloody bond like that, but it's not too late to start from where we are. I think, if affection didn't embarrass you so much, you'd let me call you that. But I don't hate you, if that's why you're so defensive. You could've done your deed and pushed me the hell out of here, but now I know a lot more about who I am. You've solved a lifetime of confusion. The only thing I ask, is don't throw me out before we've both adjusted to this. Don't assume I hate you, 'cause I don't. If my magic makes certain that I will never have a normal life, and no one knows what the hell that is, then I'm going to stop fighting it.

"The same people who would say that kissing you is wrong, are the same people who need me to stand up to Voldemort because they can't. What good are their rules going to do me? You're the only person who understands my magic. Why shouldn't I kiss you? No matter where I come from, I'm here. I have to make a life of it. If orphans needed blood-parents to live valid lives, there wouldn't be any because they'd just all die out. That's proof that what we were about to do, isn't evil. It's just a different road. It's like choosing green when all the world is saying red is the only right way. It might be the right way for them, but it's not the only right way for wizards who can have babies through magic. There's no genetic material involved, and even if there was, we have magic. Those morals come from people who didn't have magic, who couldn't fix deformities or broken lives. Purebloods have always been lenient with that sort of thing because they knew they had the magic to make it go the way they wanted. When you're the only person who knows how to fly, why let a flightless world tell you that it's wrong to have wings?"

Still distrustful, Snape studied Harry, who remained shirtless.

Harry's chest heaved from having to make his point, all the while risking he'd trip over his words or Snape would cut him off. He saw by Snape's lack of words, that he'd hit something, but was it his target?

He pushed. "I'm glad you're related to me. You're the most powerful wizard I know. If we can have an unorthodox relationship, I still want that. Right now, I don't think I could settle for a lesser wizard if I tried. I feel like, if life would ask me, a fourteen year-old, to fight Voldemort, it could also let me hold you. And do other things."

He took a step towards his teacher. "Nobody has the right to expect me to fight that monster and deny me your arms."

Snape drew himself up at Harry's approach.

"The word 'father' is just a label for us. I'm sure it means great things to other people. But for us, it's just a word. It's theirs and comes with their rules. I can share that with my dad, but I can share something else with you."

He lifted his hands to Snape's face, willing him to hold still, begging him silently, not to pull away. "Wizards like us have our own rules and our own world."

"This is ours." He kissed Snape, whose parted lips could think of nothing to say to prevent it. This time, he didn't have solid logic to use, to escape Harry's tender young lips, and he endured as Harry had his way. In shock, more than desire, he gave Harry what he wanted. All defenses were down.

When Harry had them both breathless, he pulled back and aimed his words directly into the tunnels of Snape's eyes. "My magic was always telling the truth, even when no one knew it. I want you, because a part of me knows that it belongs with you. You can't blame me for that. You can't."

As he spoke, he pulled on Snape's robes. He began lifting the hem. "Please, don't let this change anything. Let it make it better."

He started to press forward. His hopes were to back Snape into the table again, and return to that warmth. But Snape could not be coerced.

"Harry, are you sure this is what you want? Do not fool yourself into thinking this is romantic love, or could ever be more."

"It could be, if you'd let it."

"If I'm still alive when you're forty-five, and you have more experience with life, I might humor you and take that offer with mild regard. However, you will have a wife or a husband some day. Do not let a moment's convenience take that away from you. Just because a stupid set of circumstances caused me to be your father, doesn't mean that we're excused from the moral compass altogether."

"But you're the only one who can give this to me. Where am I going to find a wife or husband who knows what your hands know?"

"The spinal magic I demonstrated to manipulate your sexual energy, is from a Hindu text. I will make sure you have it. There are solitary exercises that you will benefit from. But you must train your chosen partner, if they are to be a life partner. I cannot be your escape from that knowledge of yourself."

"I'm not asking you to. Just give me what you brought me in here to give me. What Dumbledore intended, no short cuts."

"Do not mention that name when you are attempting to seduce me."

Harry smiled against Snape's neck. "Is that a yes?"

"If I give you this one thing, will you promise never to approach me for it ever again?"

"If I could promise that, I would. But I can't. You know that."

He felt Snape pull away from him. It was a gentle withdrawing, inspiring curiosity rather than concern. There was no way he could've mistaken the sinking welcome that pooled arousal between them. He thought for a second that he'd blown his chance, but Snape's manner appeared to weigh his answer. He lifted his eyes, and his answer to Harry. "Then the next time I say no to you, you will simply have to learn the hard way, to do without."

Harry wasn't sure what this meant until Snape avoided the table and placed his back to the wall as he faced him. "I am not accustomed to submitting to any man. Monsters on occasion, perhaps. I've been fortunate enough to avoid that for years. But lying on my back only inspires the instinct to defend myself. I suggest we avoid all of that and take our venture to a more neutral position."

He held Harry's stare for a long, decisive moment, before hitching his robe just high enough to present Harry with an invitation.

Harry gaped at him. The sight was too delicious and too unbelievable, even after all that they'd discussed. The professor somehow managed to retain his authority, to speak with the quiet strength of steel, but to move with all the mastery that his black robes touted. He stood against the wall with straight shoulders. To further make his point, his broad hands demonstrated precision elegance as his fingers gathered his robe until it parted, opening a place for Harry and showing him exactly where to plant himself. As if this were not bold enough, not teasing enough, or perfectly balanced between desire and wanton permission, he slowly, while holding Harry's stare, slid down the wall. His hair trailed along the sides and Harry knew this was a level of submission that was being awarded to him, and only him.

Now Snape's legs were up, and his robe barely hid dark secrets recessed within the emergence of wide, pale thighs. Fine, black hairs coated the expanse of powerful, white flesh and Harry's groin flexed to be locked inside them.

Harry was on his knees, braving floor burns and lining up with that most forbidding, hidden place on Snape's body. This time, he kept his eyes on Snape's. Looking at each other took on a new meaning all its own as Snape's hands guided him inside. His entry was eased by active charms, but with each inch forward, Snape's unpracticed body threatened to push him out again. In their connection, Harry asked if it was okay to push harder. Snape answered by pulling Harry's robe at his shoulder, into a bundle he could squeeze, to transport the initial pain. Harry looked at his open mouth, his disheveled hair, and the fevered skin that now plastered black strands at his temples. In that open-stare agreement, he pushed.

Snape's expression went through a series of transformations. All hidden beneath a brave display of acceptance. The more Harry drove forward, the more Snape's back came away from the wall. His modesty forgotten, his cock rolled in the crevice between them. It was still covered, but so full that its shape told Harry everything he'd ever wanted to know. Harry grabbed it through the cloth, trying to maintain eye contact and not miss a moment of what his own cock was doing to his teacher. There would only ever be one of these. A first time, and it was a gift he wanted to take into eternity.

He knew that Snape wasn't breathing, so he didn't breathe. Behind his eyes, within his gut, Snape was measuring, making calculations, ready to stop Harry if it became too much. But Harry heard, "Keep going, don't stop."

Did he look like he was going to stop? That seemed to be a concern, so he whispered, "Never." He leaned and kissed the tears squeezing from the corners of Snape's eyes. He kissed his jaw and his neck, listening for the moment Snape let go and started breathing again. He was in, as far as he could go. Carefully, he drew back, hearing a cross between hurt and helplessness, as the entire trunk of Snape's body flinched on the pull inside of him.

"Easy, easy… " Snape panted.

When Harry pulled back out of panic, Snape held him by his hips. "Not that far. Come back."

Long thrusts had to wait. To Harry's amazement, Snape was teaching him about pacing. "Don't rush that much this soon. It feels wonderful, but you are, perhaps, more endowed than I anticipated."

Harry smiled devilishly. He was a grower. "I could say the same for you. I can't wait for you to show me how to take something like this." His hand, happy and fulfilled, overflowed with Snape's silk-granite length. He used the fabric to sheathe it and slid its infused, sensitive tissue against itself. He tried to detect veins and ridges, to determine the character of it, but could only marvel at how smooth it felt. He wondered what he must feel like inside of Snape.

When sweat appeared to cool on Snape's skin and his color returned to something normal, he encouraged stronger thrusts from Harry. Eager to be a good student, Harry obliged him, memorizing what each push forward and each slid back, did to the root of his spine. Liquid opium replaced his blood and crawled up his stomach, empowering him with the gluttony to piston as much out of Snape's wickedly delicious center as possible. Smoldering heat caught fire, and strokes reached a point where he didn't need instruction and he could not have stopped if he wanted to.

He could tell that Snape was trying to keep up with him, trying to maintain dignity as Harry's movement drove his shoulders and head against the wall. For Harry, all his pleasure came to a point in the tension above Snape's beautiful mouth. Never had that white line looked so appealing. Not in anger, not in a room full of students challenging his wrath, as it did now. Volatile reactions to Harry being in his body, were causing Snape's muscles to betray him. Blistering, blinding greed, because Harry was too far gone, caused Snape's throat to choke up confessions. Groans, driven from him, belted out of him by Harry's strength, had his body confessing that it was almost too much. That he felt the melting point just as Harry felt it. That his enclosure, this hidden part of him, was tiny indeed and even inadequate for what Harry drove up through him. But he held on and took it, because there was so much pleasure embedded in those same strokes. When Harry filled him, it was unbearable. When Harry's thrusts threatened to leave his body, that too was unbearable. The sweet spot was less than an eternal second, sustained by continuous motion that had him bruising Harry's thighs as he endured the hardest thrusts. In that exquisite second, bliss mounted and propelled him beyond care of what his body was doing or how inadequate it was. Right then, it served him just fine as it ejected him from it and into the stratosphere where he reunited with his soul.

He took some details with him. Under Harry's hard work, he'd sunk even deeper against the wall to the point that Harry's sweat dripped onto his neck and chest. Harry, green eyes crazed in his zeal, bared his teeth as he orchestrated his slender muscles to prove to Snape's body that he was worthy. Harry, grunting against his own breathing rhythm. Chest just beginning to see the down that would one day be as unruly as the black rich trail that led to his cock. Harry, whimpering between growls and gasps as he rode the momentum of his pleasure.

At some point, the cloth between them disappeared and Harry saw the Holy Grail. It slid, unbridled, thick, and wet in his grip. He worshiped it, pulling it with his fist, to a standing beacon that erupted so forcefully, Snape's head lifted back and thrashed against the wall.

Harry drank unintelligible sounds that assured him of Snape's ecstasy. He waited out the quake in Snape's torso. He held on to Snape's large thighs as they trembled. They were hinged over his own. The sight alone, all dark red heat and pale vulnerability splayed before him, with grizzly heaviness in those full testicles, brought Harry over the edge. Snape, stunned in a film of incoherence that left him helpless on the knife point of his orgasm, kept Harry sustained through his own.

They tried to be responsible after that. They tried to maintain a convincing pretense of dislike for one another while in the presence of other students. But there were times when they felt like they were fooling no one. Like the whole school could feel their attraction and thought them all the more strange for it. If he felt Harry's eyes upon him, and it caused a slip in his composure, Snape took it out on the nearest student who dared to test his grip on his fortitude. He became meaner and colder to the observer who tried to unravel his mysterious hang ups with his students.

But behind closed doors, when Harry had him pinned beneath the portraits in his quarters, some of whom did not shield their eyes from what they were seeing, he melted into Harry's embrace like chocolate on the tongue. He surrendered all his frustrations with students, with teachers, and with Dumbledore, to Harry's demand to continue their lessons. He tried to hold something back, but Harry wanted it all. He was not a child who could be silenced and sent away anymore. Every sneaking tug on Snape's robes, in the shadows, told him that. Every convergence with Harry among other students and faculty, with Harry's deadpan eyes drawing attention to the pink tongue that snaked out just for Snape, told him that. Harry liked taking risks. Snape did not. Harry wanted Snape after his last class of the day. Snape preferred to make him wait untill his papers were graded.

Their dance played out in the thick of night, when Snape retired to his room to find himself unable and unwilling to break Harry's hold. They rarely made it to the bed. Often, the urgency of their desire took place in the same parlor, against the same wall, with the same mirror across the room at Harry's back. In a show of unrivaled submission, Snape faced the wall and offered his back to Harry, who repaid all that was given to him in Snape's dungeon that first night. Other times, he learned exactly what it meant to be on the receiving end of something far too big for one's body. It made him all the more grateful for when Snape allowed him to lift his robe in the shadows of their quickest gropes and their most voracious appetites. But in Snape's parlar, the embrace that Harry used to crack the stone wall, as he crushed Snape with thrusts against them, was their favorite. Charms muffled their cries and Snape's arms revealed powerful strength as they locked to Harry's body in paralyzing climaxes.

They both knew that this was no solution. It was still wrong in the eyes of the world, and that meant that it was fundamentally wrong. But the edicts of a great wizard bowed to the fervor of a younger one, because Harry's appetite freed Snape. As long as he gave Harry what he wanted, he too met all the unconditional acceptance denied to him his whole life. A taste of that, and he could not refuse Harry what he wanted. So he let the young man take him. Sometimes he stepped outside of himself just to appreciate it from a different vantage point. He saw the mirror behind Harry's back. Saw the muscles working beneath Harry's shirt, as the boy's spine worked tirelessly to get at what it wanted.

This was all still new to Snape. He didn't know if he could ever get used to having Harry know exactly who he was. Harry accused him of being strong, but he no longer thought himself so. Now he understood his dear friend, Lucius's predicament, so much better. If this was all that Harry wanted from him, this velvet escape from the harsh threat of reality, where so many sacrifices awaited, then he could not say no to his son.

* * *

Top stories from this writer are in the Unbearable series. :-)


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